Warmth in Winter
by MsDeacs
Summary: Gendry and Arya reunite in Winterfell. Amidst the tension of the upcoming war they attempt to rediscover each other. This follows the scenes of S8 and focuses on Gendry's POV. I just needed to let my little Gendrya shipper heart sail. Hope you enjoy! Happily ever after. (Rated M for mild maturity later on.)
1. Chapter 1 - Remembering the Girl

**I just wanted to delve into what was going on in Gendry's head during THAT SCENE, in fact I just wanted to explore all of his thoughts regarding Arya. So this is me, going into more detail from Gendry's POV. I love this couple so much, plus I wanted to practice writing romantic chemistry between characters so, here it is! I hope you guys enjoy my take on Gendrya! (As always I don't own anything GOT related.)**

**REMEMBERING THE GIRL**

_"I could be your family..." _

Gendry Waters thought he had buried those words long, long ago, but from the moment he had crossed over into Winterfell he couldn't seem to stop remembering. Even back then he had always known she would have to leave him, she was a Lady after all, no matter how hard she had tried to deny it. It had only made sense for him to leave her first, to carve a future of his own away from the stubborn, fiery girl. The girl who had somehow become the closest thing to a family he'd ever had.

Now, as he stood in the scorching hot forge in the heart of Winterfell, he couldn't help but smirk to himself. Despite everything that had happened, despite all the years that had passed, he had somehow landed exactly where Arya had always wanted him to be.

He had heard rumours of her and he knew that she lurked somewhere within the castles walls. Jon spoke of her as though she were still a child, though the talk that swirled around her painted a very different kind of picture.

He had not let her name pass his lips once. He had not asked after her. He had not even admitted to knowing her. He wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was fear... Maybe, just maybe, he didn't want to open the box that he had so carefully closed shut all those years ago.

_"I could be your family..."_

It was in the forge alone that the box remained sealed shut. In the forge where there was only steel and smoke and purpose. He was a craftsman and metal was the only thing that mattered. Making it sing, making it _strong. _

"Gendry! He's here!"

Gendry pulled himself away from his work and turned around to see the giant hulking frame of the Hound standing in the middle of the forge. He nodded and pulled a giant axe from the wall. It was a hefty piece of work, and one of his best pieces yet. He still couldn't get over the sleek blackness of dragonglass, how it somehow made even the most ordinary weapons seem more brutal.

_"_It isn't easy making a blade that big with dragonglass." He said, passing the blade over.

The Hound took the blade from him with a grunt. "You're saying you're good, is that it?"

"I'm just saying it's a tricky material to work with-"

The Hound met his gaze, one half of his face covered in shadow, the other half covered in scars. "Do you know who makes weapons for the Wildlings?" The Hound snarled. "Cripples and cocksuckers. Which one are you?"

Gendry stood up a little straighter and gritted his teeth.

"Leave him be."

The voice cut through the noise of the hammers and clanging steel. Soft, clear...determined. The Hound span around and Gendry followed his gaze...he knew who the voice belonged to at once, and yet seeing her standing there, poised and purposeful... it undid him in some strange way. She was a lady now, though a strange one. She held herself like a noblewoman yet she was dressed in the style of a solider. She was so..._different_ to the scrawny image of a girl that he held in his head. Taller. Colder. As a child Gendry remembered her wearing her rage like armour, visible for everyone to see. As a woman it seemed more hidden..but he could still see it. Simmering just beneath the surface, in the fierce gleam of her eye.

It was then he realised that while had been staring at her the Hound had been and gone.

They were alone.

"That was a nice axe you made for him." She said. "You've gotten better."

"Thanks, so have you." He said thickly. "I mean, you look..." He paused, flustered. "...Good."

Arya's face remained impassive. "Thanks. So do you."

They regarded each other for a moment and silence passed between them. Throughout the entire journey to Winterfell Gendry hadn't allowed himself to think of reuniting with Arya. Not once. Now though he wished he had, wished that he'd given some thought to what he would say to the girl he had spent so many months travelling the kingdoms with.

Abruptly he turned away, allowing her to follow him.

"Not a bad place to grow up, if it wasn't so cold." He said, picking up some of the already completed weapons that were laid out on a nearby table, examining them as if he didn't already know they were finished. He needed to do something with his hands. He needed somewhere else to look.

"Stay close to that forge then." She said, standing close to him.

_Listen to her, handing out orders so easily. _The thought made him smile. "Is that a command Lady Stark?" He asked.

He knew he shouldn't tease her. He knew he had no right. But there was a part of him - a big part of him - that wanted to see if any slither of the girl he knew remained.

"Don't call me that."

He grinned and turned to face her. She was still staring at him expressionless, but he had heard the tone in her voice and he wondered if he could push his luck just a little bit further. "As you wish M'lady."

Silence.

And then, almost shyly, a smile crept across her face.

So there was still some of the old Arya tucked away behind the grim stare. Almost against his will he felt his grin broaden.

Still smiling Arya withdrew a piece of paper from within her cloak. "Here's my wish." She said, handing it to him. "Can you make it?"

Gendry took the piece of paper from her and regarded the parchment carefully. The drawing was crude but clear. He wondered whether she had drawn it herself, then he wondered; "What do you need something like this for?"

"Can you make it or not?"

His eyes roamed her outfit more carefully, "You already have a sword, and what's that?" He pointed to the dagger on her side. Without passing comment Arya pulled out the dagger and handed it to him.

He examined the knife, it was a bloody beautiful piece of craftsmenship. "This is Valeryian steel!" He breathed, then he looked back up at her. "I always knew you were just another rich girl."

Arya took the dagger back from him, a curious expression flicking across her face. "You don't know any other rich girls." She said sweetly, and then she walked away. He followed her line of walk and then - to his surprise - she looked back at him. No, she _spun, _just long enough so that he could see her raise one mischievous eyebrow.

And then she was gone.


	2. Chapter 2 - Strong Enough

**STRONG ENOUGH**

Reuniting with Arya had been an out of body experience. He couldn't quite reconcile the feisty young girl he had once tried to protect, with the mysterious young woman who had smiled so coyly at him.

He couldn't stop thinking about the way she had spun around as she'd walked away from him.

Confident. Dangerous.

The Red Woman had been both of those things too.

A shiver tingled at the base of his spine. It was early morning, and the forge was mostly full. The stench of smoke and burning filled the air. Gendry himself had been there since before daybreak. There seemed to be so many more stars in the North than there were in Kings Landing, and he had watched them impassively as they disappeared one by one while morning crept in. Flashes of red embers seared the air, a stark contrast amongst the dreary white and greys of Winterfell.

Soot covered his hands, arms and face. He did not think there was a single inch of his skin that was not slick with sweat.

He was pouring molten steel into a furnace, watching as the metal hissed against the sides of the pan, when he felt the presence of someone watching him. He glanced up and saw Arya's petite frame through the vapour. Their eyes met and he could not bring himself to tear his eyes away from her. The corner of her eyebrow lifted ever-so-slightly, and he felt his body shift.

"Don't you have something better to do?" He called.

"You made my weapon yet?" She replied.

"Just as soon as I've done making a few thousand of these." He said, lifting an axe only for her to swipe it from him.

"You should make mine first. And make sure it's stronger than this."

He took the axe back from her and slammed it into the nearest block of wood as hard as he could. "It's strong enough." He grunted.

From the corner of his eye he saw Arya's open-mouthed astonishment and he couldn't help but feel a little thrill of satisfaction run through him. But when she faced him seconds later her mask was back in place - smooth and inscrutable.

"It'll be safer down in the crypts you know." He said, moving over to another table where there was array of spear heads piled up. He lifted one up, checking to see if the edges were sharp enough.

"Are you going to be down in the crypt?"

He moved onto the next piece, feeling the weight of it in his hand. "No, but-"

"But you're a fighter."

There was something in her tone that made him draw his attention away from his work and focus on her. Did she think he couldn't fight? "I've done my share." He said.

"You've fought them?" She asked, though she didn't sound overly impressed.

He returned to the work. "I did. Some of them."

"How many?"

"A few. That was enough."

Silence passed between them, he continued to appraise the spear pieces all the while profoundly aware of the intensity with which Arya was staring at him. Had she always stared at him like that? He was struggling to remember...

"What are they like?" She asked quietly.

"Bad." He said, finally looking at her once more. "Really bad."

Arya scoffed. "Really bad?" She marched around the table so that she was facing him. So that he couldn't escape her questions by staring at his work. ""Even a Smith's Apprentice can do better than 'really bad.' What do they look like? What do they smell like? How do they move? How hard are they to kill?"

It was then that he realised just how serious she was. She was seriously planning to fight, all five foot of her. He leaned forward, he wanted to _make_ her understand...he needed to make her understand. ""Look, I know you want to fight. And I know you're not scared of rapers or murderers or...but this is different. This is death. You wanna know what they're like? Death. Death is what they're like."

She regarded him carefully, and then cast her hands to the spear-heads that lay between them. She was so small and yet somehow she filled his vision. She picked up the spear that his hand was resting on, forcing him to pull his hand away. For a brief, insane moment he'd thought she was going to place her hand atop of his.

"I know Death." She whispered, and she threw the spear head across the yard. Gendry almost swore as it zipped past him, he watched incredulous as it pierced the wood perfectly. "He's got many faces." She continued, and then she threw another. Impossibly it landed right next to her first, he turned to gape at her but she was already picking up the third, her nimble hands turning the steel over, almost caressing it. "I look forward to seeing this one." This time Gendry knew where it would land, and yet still he couldn't help the incredulous laugh that escaped him as it soared through the air and found it's target.

She walked back around the table so that she was facing him. "My weapon?"

"I'll get right on it." He nodded, the absurd smile still plastered on his face.

Once again he found himself watching her walk away. It occurred to him that maybe he didn't know who she was now, not all of her anyway. He definitely didn't know where she'd been or what she'd done.

A voice inside him whispered that he wanted to find out. Again those words rose to the forefront of his mind, unwanted and unbidden.

_"I could be your family..."_

Shaking his head Gendry called over the nearest apprentice and handed him Arya's drawing. "Get me all the materials I need to build this. Give them to me and no one else, understand?"

He would make Arya her weapon, and there wasn't a doubt in his mind that she knew exactly how to use it. She was more than strong enough.


	3. Chapter 3 - All of Her Secrets

**Okay so this is THAT scene and I really hope I've done it justice. I just wanted to properly explore Gendry's feelings. Joe Dempsie does such a great job of portraying him but I really wanted to write a piece about what was going on through Gendry's head when Arya approached him like that. Their relationship, particularly in the show, is so complex and the dynamic between them shifts so dramatically. It's honestly one of my all time fav relationships put to screen. Anyway, enough of me rambling. Here it is! **

**ALL OF HER SECRETS**

Winterfell, Gendry had decided, was beautiful. In an ethereal and cold kind of way. He sat atop one of the castles highest walls, gazing out at the great white landscape. In the distance he could see the harsh black silhouettes of tall trees.

The air was cold and crisp - the air biting. But above all there was the scent of fear brewing around them. It vibrated through every movement. It was there as the men checked the weapons stock one last time, it was present as they drank their beers and it was overpowering as they said their fond farewells.

In Gendry's hand he held Arya's weapon. He wanted to be the one to give it to her, yet for some reason he could not quite bring himself to move - not yet. He had given it some thought and he'd decided something. He was going to tell her that he was sorry for leaving her all those years ago. He was going to tell her that he was glad to be in Winterfell now and he was going to wish her luck in the battle to come. He might even pray for her, though he'd never been a big believer in the Gods before.

He rather thought - or rather hoped - that they could go back to how they'd been before. Something a little more than friends -but something a little less than family.

Of course, this was all based on the assumption that they were to survive the night.

Above him the grey sky started to bleed black and the first of the stars began to reveal themselves. In the distance a dragon roared.

It was almost time.

He stood up.

Finally, he found her, tucked away in the grain stores. Standing solemn with her bow held tight in her grip, he watched from the shadows as each of her arrows found the centre of her makeshift target.

One, two, three. One after the other, landing exactly where she wished them to.

She truly was a murderous creature.

He let in a sharp breath and Arya spun around, her eyes immediately landing on the weapon.

"Is that for me?" Before waiting for his answer she eagerly took it from him and he watched, fascinated, as she wielded it expertly from hand to hand. Effortless.

"Yes...this'll do." She murmured. He could not help but notice the excited gleam in her eyes.

It was now or never.

"Last time you saw me you wanted me to come to Winterfell." He began, "Took the long road but-"

"What did the Red Woman want with you?" Arya said, cutting over him.

She hadn't stopped practising with the spear. Nor did she look at him when she asked the question. He wondered how long she had been waiting to ask him that...he found he could not deny her an answer.

"She wanted my blood." He said gruffly. "Some sort of spell."

"Why your blood?"

He sighed. "Because I'm Robert Baratheon's bastard son."

That made her stop. Her eyes widened and she seemed to regard him a little more carefully. Of course, she had actually met King Robert. Perhaps she was comparing the two in her mind. The thought unnerved him.

He continued. "She tied me up, stripped me down, put leeches all over me."

He noticed it then, he posture shift, her expression change - if only subtly. She cast her eyes downwards as she walked past him. "Was that your first?" She asked, then she placed the weapon against the side. It was a deliberate movement, almost delicate.

"Well yeah, I'd never had leeches put on me before." He said, frowning. This conversation wasn't really going as he'd planned.

"Your first time with a woman." Arya clarified, bluntly.

He could almost feel the composure drop from his face. It really, _really_ wasn't going how he'd planned.

"I didn't-" He sputtered, "I wasn't _with_ her!"

"Were there girls before? Or after?" She asked it all so calmly with only a slight lift of her arched eyebrow.

Gendry was acutely aware of the conversation taking a dangerous turn, yet he couldn't think of a way to guide it elsewhere. He was rooted to the spot, unable to do anything but stare at her and watch as the the flames danced across her face - highlighting the curious expression she wore.

"Yes." He said finally.

"How many? One, two...twenty?"

"I don't know!" He exclaimed. "I didn't keep count!"

She was taking off her gloves and moving closer toward him. Her lips curled into a wry smile.

_Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous. _

"Yes. You did." She said coyly.

She stood opposite him now, so cool and calm while he was growing increasingly flustered by the second. His heart was hammering fiercely inside his chest and when had it grown so hot in the castle?

He looked at her, wondering if there was a way to avoid answering but she remained silent. Waiting.

"Three." He breathed finally.

Arya tilted her head to the side and there was something in the way that she was looking at him - no _seeing_ him - that turned his skin to fire. She closed the distance between them until she was so close that he could count her eyelashes if he wanted to. Suddenly he wanted to.

"We're probably going to die here." She said. Her voice remaining impossibly smooth. "I ought to know what it's like before that happens."

For a brief, maddening second, he wasn't sure what she was saying. Understanding soon came in a flash though, and suddenly there was nothing but noise everywhere. The sound of his blood rushing to his ears, the sound of his heart pounding like a rapid drumbeat, the sound of the torchlight flames crackling around them.

And Arya standing in it all.

Arya, Arya, Arya.

His mind was at war with itself. He remembered her as a girl, yet she stood before him now as a woman. A determined glint in her eyes and a secret playing at the corners of her mouth.

Gods he wanted to know that secret - in truth he wanted to know all of her secrets. He thought that maybe he had done since their first moment together in Winterfell. His eyes flickered to her lips, and the she artfully raised one of her eyebrows in that way she did. Slowly...questioningly. The noise grew louder.

He was undone.

"Arya I -"

And then she kissed him - and the noise stopped.

Her hands pressed the side of his face and he could feel the warmth of her, the urgency, the taste of her lips pressing against his...

And then thoughts didn't matter. It didn't matter who they had been before, and it didn't matter that she was highborn and he a bastard. All that mattered was _this_.

Hands tugged at leathers, fingers tugged through hair; it was a desperate, keening scramble to experience everything, everything, everything.

Gendry was vaguely aware of himself smiling against her mouth and he could feel rather than see the moment that she smiled back.

It was too much.

It was not enough.

He pulled away from her and hastily lifted his shirt over his head. Then he leaned forward to kiss her again, but his lips had barely brushed over hers when he was pushed backwards onto the sacks of grain stacked behind them. He watched, entranced, as she removed her shirt. She was so unafraid. So fiercely ready for everything the world threw at her.

Her skin was cream coloured and smooth, her petite frame so far from boy-like now.

She was beautiful. Right from the curve of her neck, to the fullness of her lips, to the thin pink scars that curved around her waist. His gaze lingered there, just for a moment. There was a story there, another secret she had yet to share.

Arya caught his gaze. "I'm not the Red Woman." She said coolly. "Take your own bloody pants off."

Eagerly he obeyed. And he didn't miss the spark of amusement that flickered over her face as he did. When it was done she tossed her hair over her shoulder and that moment alone was bewitching to him. His eyes followed her closely as he lowered herself on top of him and he thought that he could have lived in that moment forever and it still wouldn't be enough. He knew then, as her lips enveloped his once again, softly, tenderly...that it was the beginning of something more.

His hands clung to her waist as she pulled him into her. Before, he thought he had seen magic and he thought he had known what it was to _live_. But he he had been wrong. It was nothing compared to seeing the truth of Arya Stark laid bare. To know her now as he knew her.

A soft gasp escaped her lips and he felt his whole body quiver. Their eyes locked and she smiled at him - a smile that, in that moment, belonged solely to him. She ran her fingers over his chest, hard enough to make him groan but not hard enough to truly hurt. And all he kept thinking was...

_This is it..._

_This. Is. It. _

**I hope you liked! I'm probably going to keep updating this until the series ends. Of course I will probably be a blubbering mess by the time that happens... anywho, please leave reviews if you feel so inclined! Much love xx**


	4. Chapter 4 - Never His Lady

**Not gonna lie guys, I feel as though they did us real dirty with the Gendrya storyline so...I'm going to change the ending #sorrynotsorry. Aha, in all seriousness though, we don't get to be outraged by an author's creative decision on what to do with their characters; disappointed yes, outraged no. So I am disappointed, but I guess that's why we have fanfiction. Plus I live in the hope that GRRM has something a little different planned for our lovebirds at the end of his series, like, oh, I dunno...*cough*Gendrybeingontheboat*cough*. I'm going to follow the series to a point and I hope you like my re-imagining/interpretation of events from Gendry's POV. Much love xx**

**NEVER HIS LADY**

It was hard to see through all of the darkness, the grime and the blood. But the blood was the worst of all. It was smeared on his hands and face, even in his eyes. He had never been a talented swordsman, though even he could admit that he'd crafted some of the finest blades in Westeros, but he knew how to wield a hammer. The weight of it in his hand made him deadly, the swiftness of the killing made him merciful.

There was power in death. He felt it.

And there was none more powerful than Arya. He saw her briefly, wielding the staff as though it was just another part of her. She was such a viscous, almost feral being. She danced her way through the fray, slicing and whirling. Then she was gone, reality to smoke in an instant.

When the dawn broke and the long night finally ended, all he could think of was her. Even though his limbs and bones ached, and even though he was surrounded by a thousand corpses. Her face was all that he could see.

_Stupid, bullheaded bastard. _

**_ page break_**

"Have you seen Arya?"

The Hound looked up from across the table and smirked at him. "You can still smell the burning bodies and that's where your heads is at?"

He could still smell the burning of bodies. But he could also smell beer and sweat and food. Besides, Gendry hardly thought that was the point. "I just want to thank her for -"

The Hound cut over him, smirking even more. "I'm sure you do."

Gendry frowned, he could feel the colour in his cheeks rising, he didn't like the idea that the Hound might _know_ something... "Look it's not about _that_."

"Of course it's about that, you twat!" The Hound snapped gruffly. "Why shouldn't it be? The dead are dead. You're not."

Gendry scowled at him before abruptly standing up and making his way through the crowds. Gendry could admit to himself that the Hound had a point, he would just much rather cut out his own tongue than admit it to him personally.

So he wove his way through the revellers, trying to catch any glimpse of a brown hair and that perfectly straight posture. He made his way to the head table, thinking he might find her with her brother, Jon, but when it became clear that Arya simply wasn't in the hall he turned to leave.

"Gendry."

Gendry stopped in his tracks as the entire hall immediately fell silent. He knew that voice, everyone knew that voice. Clear and crisp and cold.

"That's right isn't it?"

Gendry turned around slowly so that he was facing the Dragon Queen. "Yes, your Grace."

"You're Robert Baratheon's son." This was stated as a fact, not a question. Gendry made to stand as straight as he could. He wasn't going to apologise for who his father was, but he damn sure wasn't going to grovel either. The Queen's face remained still and unchanged as she watched him. "You are aware he took my family's throne and tried to have me murdered?"

He could feel the hairs on his neck start to prickle. Every part of his body was screaming at him to run, yet he simply stood there and met her gaze as calmy as he could. "I didn't even know he was my father until after he was dead."

"Yes. He's dead." Daenerys said flatly. "His brothers are too...So who's Lord of Storm's End now?"

"I don't know your Grace."

"Does anyone?" Now this was a question, and a question addressed to the room at that. Yet it was met by complete and utter silence. The Dragon Queen fixed her eyes on him, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "I think _you_ should be Lord of Storm's End."

For a wild second, Gendry thought she was joking, he was half-tempted to laugh. But as the silence stretched on he found it less and less funny. "I - I can't be." He stammered. "I'm a bastard."

Daenery's smile broadened. "No, you are Lord Gendry Baratheon of Storm's End, the lawful son of Robert Baratheon, because _that_ is what I have made you."

More silence.

Gendry remained fixed in place. This couldn't be real. Never, in his wildest dreams, could this happen.

Davos was the first to get to his feet. Goblet of wine in hand "To Lord Gendry Baratheon!" Davos shouted. "Of Storm's End!"

And then the entire room was saying it, chanting his name and raising their goblets. Gendry was vaguely aware of doing the same. Blood was thrumming in his hears and his heart was racing so fast. He wondered if he was supposed to say anything, but he couldn't find the words, he didn't know where they were.

He was a Lord now. He was _Lord_.

He had to tell Arya.

**_Page Break_**

He found her in the granary, bow and arrow in hand. Bruise on her cheek and fire light dancing over her face. He jumped backwards, narrowly missing an arrow.

"Don't shoot!" He exclaimed, and then moved forward so that he stood next to her. "It's nighttime, it's freezing and everyone's celebrating. You should be celebrating with them."

Arya smiled. "I am celebrating." She shot one more arrow before letting the bow dangle by her side.

"Yeah. I am too..." He could barely contain "I'm not Gendry Waters anymore, I'm Gendry Baratheon Lord of Storm's End by order of the Queen."

"Congratulations." She smiled again, this time a little more more sweetly. And he knew she meant it.

He couldn't help it, he kissed her in his excitement. He pulled her into him eagerly and then released her almost as quickly.

"I don't know how to be Lord of anything!" He breathed. "I hardly know how to use a fork! All I know is that you're _beautiful_, and I love you, and none of it will be worth anything if you're not with me. So be with me." The words left his mouth in a rush, before he even truly knew what he was saying and yet he couldn't bring himself to take them back. scrambled down onto one knee. "Be my wife. Be the _Lady_ of Storm's End."

Arya's eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips and then back again. In the harsh glow of candlelight she looked almost hauntingly beautiful. As though she wasn't really there at all. Then she knelt down to meet him. She cupped his hands in her face and kissed him. It was a tender kiss, and it was lingering. It was as though Arya never wanted the kiss to end. He could feel the shape of her bottom lip beneath his, he could feel warmth of her tongue as it brushed against his, and he could feel the way her fingers traced cheek - as though committing his shape to memory.

When they stood up, they stood up as one and still in embrace.

When she finally pulled away from him, there was a look in her eyes. It was the same look she'd had the last time they had to say goodbye. Suddenly he was taken back to the dingy cave walls and the smell of damp moss. And he could hear the words that had haunted him for so long.

_I could be your family. _

Gendry knew that Arya loved him. He could see it in the way that she gazed at him and he could feel it in the way his mouth burned when they kissed. But in that moment, fractured and everlasting as it was, he also knew that it didn't matter...she was going to leave him anyway.

"You'll be a wonderful Lord." She said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "And any Lady would be lucky to have you. But I'm _not_ a Lady. I never have been...that's not me."

He took one small step away from her.

All Gendry had ever wanted, all his life, was to be _someone_. To have a name and a place in the world. He'd wanted to feel worthy. Worthy of someone like Arya. No, that wasn't right. He wanted to be worthy enough for Arya and _for Arya alone_. He had never stopped to think, not even for a moment, that it didn't matter to her. That he had, in fact, had a place all along and that his name was simply that - a name.

How had he ever thought that a castle and a title could ever entice her? She'd had both of those things all along. And now...now she was looking for something more.

Gendry watched as Arya turned her back on him. She was small and ferocious, beautiful and bruised. She was the meanest creature to have ever lived and he loved her, he loved her, he _loved_ her.

He watched, frozen, as she pulled another arrow into the bow string and let the arrow fly. All he could think was...

..._This can't be the end. _


	5. Chapter 5 - His Family, Her Pack

**Almost at the end guys, I hope you like my re-imagining! I really love this couple, they have such an interesting history and deep connection, I hope I did a little bit of justice to this alt ending of their story. And I'm hoping that GRRM will soothe our shipper hearts when he completes the series - although I'm not counting on it! He loves to torture us a little, good ol' George! Aha seriously though, it's so believable the relationships he creates in ASOIF so it's no wonder we all get so passionate. Anyways, enjoy! **

**HIS FAMILY, HER PACK**

"Say another word about killing my brother and I'll cut your throat."

It took everything in him not to smile. No matter what else happened today, it was worth the trip to Kings Landing just to hear Arya Stark snarl a threat like that in broad daylight, in front of the most powerful people in all of Westeros.

He stole a glance at her. Her hair was slicked back into her signature topknot and her expression was fierce.

She really was something.

He supposed he was something now too.

The past few weeks had been chaotic. It had been difficult to discern who had want land and what titles. And it had been painful to walk through the wreckage of Kings Landing, it didn't matter how much he had once hated it, it had been Gendry's home once, and now it was little more than rubble.

Gendry and Davos had taken it upon themselves to go back to Storms End. There were still people living there that needed looking after. There was still work that needed to be done, and it seemed only right that Gendry do it. The Mad Queen had given him the title of Baratheon after all, and no one had tried to take the title back from him. When he'd been invited to the council, to help decide the fate of the Kingdoms, he'd assumed that meant he'd been accepted as a Lord after all.

It wasn't saying much though. Lords and leaders were few and far between now, the council needed as much help as they could get.

He didn't think he was being particularly helpful though. Mostly he simply sat and tried not to stare at Arya from the corners of his eyes. Why should he say anything? There were far more intelligent people around him with far more definitive views on how to run a Kingdom. All he wanted was to make sure that Storms End was protected, and then he and Davos could go back and run it in peace.

Of course, it wasn't _all_ he wanted.

When the council dispersed Gendry found himself still sitting idly in his seat. Watching as the Stark sisters left the arena. Ser Davos chuckled, "Do you have any clue what just happened m'Lord?"

Gendry's gaze shifted to the old man. "Don't call me that."

Davos laughed again and together the two of them slowly left the arena. They wound their way through what was left of the gardens and headed in direction of the Red Keep.

"Davos. You've known me a while now, haven't you?"

"Indeed m'Lord."

"And..." Gendry paused awkwardly. "Would you say I'm stupid?"

Davos regarded him suspiciously. "Well you aren't going to make Maester any time soon but you're no fool. Why would you ask such a thing?"

Gendry sighed, he couldn't shake the image of Arya's face from his mind, and he knew if he didn't talk with her once more he'd forever regret it. "Because I think I'm about to do something _very_ stupid."

The two men walked past the Red Keep and toward the sea. The air was still tinged with the smell of ash. Gendry wondered how long it would take for the stench of death and smoke to truly leave the place. Walking past the burned and charred buildings Gendry found himself remembering the dragon and the woman that had set it all ablaze.

It still seemed so impossible to him.

Eventually they reached the harbour, the sight of the sea still made him a little anxious, even after all these years. Even on calm days when the waters were smooth as glass. His eyes scanned all the ships until he found the ship with white sails. His heart hammered against his chest. He turned to face his friend.

"Davos, you saved my life once, I haven't forgotten." Gendry said. "And these past few weeks you've given me more help than I deserve. Now I'm asking if you will help me again."

Davos frowned. "Anything m'Lord."

He took a deep breath. "I was given Storm's End as a gift. Now, I'd like you to keep it for me."

Davos blinked in surprise. "For how long?"

Gendry smiled, "For years maybe, or maybe only five minutes. It all depends on her."

Davos raised his eyebrows, then he followed Gendry's gaze until his eyes landed on Arya. He chuckled. "I shoulda known, you Baratheon boys and those bloody Stark girls...

"So, will you do it?"

"Aye, I'll do it." Davos said, "I'm honoured Ser."

Gendry clapped his hand on Davos's shoulder. "There's no one I trust more."

**_page break_**

It was surprisingly easy to get onto the ship, he simply slipped some coin to a few of the right sailors with the promise that he only wished to speak to the murderous Lady Stark before they set sail. The crew had readily accepted the coin but warned him that should he try anything funny they wouldn't hesitate to run him through. He almost wanted to laugh at them, as if _they'd_ be able to kill him quicker than Arya could.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been waiting when she finally arrived. It could have been ten minutes, it could have been five hours. There were several moments where he almost talked himself out of it only to then talk himself right back in.

He stood at the bow of the ship, watching as the clear blue sky grew a littler darker. He'd been gazing out at the horizon looking at an odd shadow in the sky when -

"Gendry?" He spun around and there she was. Hand resting on Needle and her eyebrows pulled into a surprised frown. "What are you doing here?"

Gendry walked toward her. Had she always been so small and terrifying? He thought that she probably had. "I had to see you before you left."

Arya stood a little straighter, and he saw the moment that she schooled her face back into a cool expression.

His mouth twitched, she was nervous around him too.

"Now you've seen me." She said. "What next?"

"I don't know." He said truthfully. His eyes met hers and he could see her chest rise and fall even through all her layers. "We've been through so much, haven't we?I've watched you dress as a boy. Do you remember that? I've watched you run people through with that bloody needle of yours. More times than I care to count. I've watched you lie and steal. I've watched you..." His breath hitched in his throat. "I've watched you lay fast asleep on top of me. But the one thing I cannot do, is watch you sail away."

Arya's eyes widened, she took a small step toward him. So small that it was barely a step at all. "I'm not staying here, Gendry. I've told you. I'm not a Lady."

"I know." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "What I mean is...I can't watch you sail away, _alone."_

She stared at him, her eyes widening in realization. "Gendry I-"

He closed the space between them and clasped both of his hands on either side of her shoulder's. He tried to steady his breathing as he looked into her small face. "I may not know how to use a fork, but I know how to hold a hammer, I know how to forge a sword and...I know how to be with you. I know how to love you."

And there was that look again, the softness in her eyes as she gazed at him. As though he was someone worth being gazed at. Unbidden a flicker of hope sparked within him. "What about Storm's End?" She asked quietly. "You're a Lord now."

He released his grip from her shoulders and shrugged gently. "I meant what I said before, none of it's worth anything if you're not with me. But... that's only if you want me. Say the word and I'll get off this boat. And I promise I'll never speak of this again."

Arya continued to stare at him, her eyes fixing on something past his head and in the horizon. She looked so serious. When she finally spoke, there was a tiny smile tugging at the corner of her lips; "When the snow falls and the cold wind blows. the lone wolf dies...but the pack survives."

The spark of hope had spread into a burning fire in his chest now. Terrified of the answer, he asked; "What are you saying?"

A large, impish grin broke out across Arya's face, she titled her head to the side and tiptoed onto the balls of her feet. "We could be pack." She whispered. "_You_ could be my pack."

She was so close to him - tantalisingly close. As if daring him to kiss her in the middle of broad daylight in front of all the ship's crew.

He lowered his head a little, so that the tips of their noses were slightly touching. A grin broke out on his face, a grin that he knew mirrored hers.

"You could be my family." He murmured.

And then she kissed him - oh _Gods_ did she kiss him - fiercely, deeply, urgently.

It was everything he remembered and more.

It was a _yes._

It was the beginning to a different kind of story...

THE END

**I hope you enjoyed 3 I am going to do a little epilogue in the next couple of weeks, but this is the end for now. **


	6. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_7 years later..._

Cold wind whipped through his hair and sea spray kept spitting him in the face. Through the mist and the fog he could see the sharp outline of the cliffs, and on top of the cliffs...the castle.

_His_ castle.

"How does it feel to be home?" Arya said, sneaking up behind him. After all these years he was still occasionally unnerved by the way she could silently creep up on him like that, more cat than woman.

Gendry shrugged. "I wasn't there long."

He had lived at Storm's End for little under two months. He had lived with the Brotherhood for longer, and Kings Landing longer than that. None of those places had ever felt like home. Only Arya ever had.

Arya nodded thoughtfully and leaned over the front of the bow. Gendry pulled her backwards immediately. "Arya be careful." He said an edge of warning in his voice.

She turned to scowl at him, her dark eyes narrowing dangerously. "Is this how it's going to be now? You watching my every action and wrapping me up in wool?"

"One of us needs to be wary of your condition." Gendry said, smiling.

Arya's scowl deepened. The ship was drawing closer to the shore now, so close that he could see the figures waiting for them on land.

"I blame you, you know." Arya said sharply.

Gendry grinned. "I know."

When Arya had first missed her moon's blood, Arya had indeed been furious. Over the years they had stopped off in various unexplored lands. Sometimes they found people, sometimes only wild empty space. They had worked for Kings and Pirates, they had lived and explored and fought. They's had almost too many adventures to remember, the two of them, their little crew and their ship. Arya had been loathe for it all to come to an end. It only made sense to go back to Storm's End, and so Gendry had sent a raven and they started the course for Westeros.

Arya spent the first month of the voyage locked in her cabin. Her mood so foul that the crew went out of their way to avoid her. When she came up to the deck it was either for food or to throw up over the side. Eventually though she spent more and more time above deck, and as her stomach grew Gendry would sometimes catch her with her hands on her stomach, a wry smile playing on her lips.

Gendry placed his hands on her shoulders. "You're doing so well, Stark."

"You too, Baratheon."

Gendry shook his head. "But I don't have to do anything?"

Arya grinned a wolfish grin, "You have to put up with me."

Gendry pulled her closer to him so that his chin rested atop her head, and watched as the ship drew closer and closer to land. Softly Gendry ran a hand through Arya's hair.

"Are you happy?" He asked quietly.

Arya leaned her head back so that their eyes met. "I''m scared. But I'm also happy...it's a strange feeling." Gendry bit his lip and placed his hands on either side of her face. She hadn't changed all that much over the years. Her hair was longer and there was now a thin, pale scar that ran across her left eyebrow down to her cheek. But she was still fiercely beautiful - fiercely honest.

The ship bumped against a shore and before Gendry could say anything more Arya was out of his arms and barking orders to the crewman of the ship. Instructing them on what to take and what to leave, Gendry couldn't help but gape at her. The strongest creature he had ever known.

**_page break_**

When they finally stood on land they found themselves standing on the sand facing a party of people, Ser Davos marched out to greet them first, his face beaming. As he reached them the people behind him started to help the rest of the crew with their belongings.

"I wondered whether you'd ever come back to us." He said, pulling Gendry into a firm hug. "I was beginning to worry whether the lands of the west had enticed you for good."

Gendry laughed. "They almost did."

Davos regarded the two of them together. "I'm so pleased for you both. You're quite a strikin' pair." He said, and then he turned to Arya. "You're looking well M'Lady."

"Ah Davos, Arya prefers if you don't call her that." Gendry said, before Arya could snipe at him.

Davos raised an eyebrow then smiled. "Not to worry. So yer rooms have all been set up, I think you'll find they're all to your liking. I also took the liberty of preparing a feast for sundown."

"Oh you didn't have to-"

"Of course I did! Our Lord has returned, a celebration was more than in order." Ser Davos waved them forward as he started toward the castle. Gendry and Arya followed. "Oh before I gorget M'Lord, I believe that Queen Sansa is planning on arriving in the next three days."

Arya's eyes lit up. "Sansa?"

Ser Davos smiled. "Indeed. When I received Lord Gendry's message I wrote to her Highness right away. She's quite determined to see you."

Arya turned and grinned at Gendry, she slid her hand in his and whispered. "Maybe coming back won't be so bad after all."

Gendry let out a throaty chuckle. "Maybe so."

Slowly they all walked along the sands and up toward the cliff. Gendry breathing in the fresh salty air and relishing the feel of hard land beneath his feet. Beside him Arya was at ease, her hair falling messily in front of her face, one hand in his and the other resting on her stomach Behind the sun was setting over the ocean and the castle stood proud and poised ahead.

Welcoming them home.

**THE END**


End file.
